


My Story - The Seventy-Second Hunger Games

by oddkravania



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Adventure, Coming of Age, District 7, District Seven, F/F, F/M, Fighting, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-08
Updated: 2017-06-04
Packaged: 2018-08-13 20:46:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7985626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oddkravania/pseuds/oddkravania
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My name is Anna Jackson (D7), and for the past year I have trained to be the best, so that I can avenge my brother. Follow me on my journey as I meet new friends, like Flax and Kade, find new romances, and kill to survive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1 - The Day Before

**Author's Note:**

> I am also posting this on fanfiction.net
> 
> Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Chapter One: Intro - Anna's PoV**

It's been 364 days since my brother, Jacob, was chosen in the reaping; it's been 353 days since he died. Ever since then I have been training to be the best: to be the fastest, the strongest, the most deadly competitor in the 72nd Hunger Games. And today is my last day before I volunteer to either avenge his death, or be with him at rest.

I wake up before dawn and pull on my boots and coat, silently creep out of the house and begin to run around our block of houses. Not many people would envy waking at this early an hour, but I love feeling the freedom of the morning breeze running through my hair. As the sun begins to rise, I pass some peacekeepers on the way to change shift at the dam, so I slow down to mock salute them, before pushing forward the sprint the last two hundred metres to my house. Unfortunately, I won't be able sneak a swim this morning, due to the large number of peacekeepers we have received for the reaping, but I am content with my run, knowing that I have grown faster, which will aid me with the tactics I have been formulating for the last month.

I enter the house via our workshop and am surprised to see my father awake and working with the sander. He doesn't acknowledge me, but then again, he hasn't really acknowledged anything since Jacob died. As I enter the kitchen my mum hands me a sandwich, I take a bite, hug her, and leave through the front door to find my best friend, Kingsley, waiting for me. When I decided to train for the games I knew I would have to build my strength, so I joined the load pulling teams with him, though I still practice axe-throwing and tree climbing in my breaks, those skills could be the difference between life and death for me. We have some mild banter whilst we walk down to join the other workers and begin to drag the tree trunks to the sawmill. By lunch time we are sweating and tired, glad for the rest, we sit at the edge of the crowd eating the forrest nuts to supplement our soup.

Soon, Kingsley starts to be his usual idiot self. He picks up a stick from the ground and points it at me, melodramatically saying "Yon tribute, I challenge ye to a duel!"

"I do not fancy your odds, good sir" I manage to whilst trying not to laugh or choke on my soup, but I stand up and draw two sticks off the ground, "Let the Hunger Games begin!".

He instantly thrusts at me, but I parry with one stick, twirl around, and tap him on the head with the other. In answer to this he twists my arm behind me by the wrist, but I haven't been training for nothing, and I twist out of the lock, flipping him onto the floor. He moans, but rolls forwards to grab my legs to pull me down and tickle my ribs before picking me up over his shoulder. When the peacekeeper comes over we are in a compromising position of him spinning round in circles whilst I hold him in a tight headlock. "Oi, haven't you got something better to do?" he says, so I let go and Kingsley puts me down as the peacekeeper walks away muttering about the 'barbaric children of district 7'.

"I suppose we'll have to call that one a tie, then," says Kingsley with a ridiculous smirk on his face.

"Oh, this is not over" I reply as we take our bowls back.

"But maybe it is."

We both pause where we stand. He turns to look at me ,"seriously though, you don't have to do this."

"I do"

He gives a sad sort of nod, then, typical of himself, begins to tease, "you'd better tell Kade then - he'll be absolutely gutted."

I shoved him away, mouthing 'shut up' while he giggles like a little girl. After a while I give in and play along, "I'd better let him down lightly, then", my tone heavy with sarcasm.

"Or you could just come out."

I glared. (touchy subject)

*****

That evening I slept early, falling into a torrid sleep in my rough sheets, as ready for tomorrow as I ever could be. 


	2. The Reaping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if there's any mistakes, I'm kind of rushing a little bit - don't want to loose all those wonderful ideas before I've had a chance to write them down!

****Chapter Two:**  ** ****Reaping** ** ****\- Anna's PoV** **

It’s the Reaping. Exactly one year since my brother was fated to his death. Today is the day that my fate is also sealed. Apparently I have to look nice for this: more for the capital than anyone else - I mean, its not like my anybody will choose to worry about their appearance over fearing their death.

I pull on a dark green tartan dress with a bow collar and comb down my black hair before adding a green hair band and looking in the mirror. _Do I look ready to be sentenced to death?_

I go downstairs to meet so that we can walk to the square. They both know I plan on volunteering today, not that they would acknowledge it; my father being completely detached from the situation, and my ma continuing on as if nothing has happened to our broken family. I had only ever seen her cry once since Jacob’s death and would rather forget it, in order to make peace with my own fate.

Ma and I solemnly eat our red berry cereals when my father appears in the doorway leading to his workshop. Ma stands and leaves, taking my bowl with her.

As my father comes over, I take in his face, covered in rough stubble, with sunken eyes and gaunt cheeks. He pulled my hands forward, grasping them tight and placing within them a small wooden chess piece.

“I want you to have this as your token.”

I nodded, unsure of what to say.

“Your brother took a small spinning top into the arena; I made this piece to show you, no, to make you remember your roots, where you come from. You are District Seven, born and bred, you are the cleverest carpenter’s daughter who has ever lived, and you are going to survive. Take this rook and be strong.” At this, he squeezed my hand and left to wait outside. I moved the piece around between my fingertips and spun it around on the table; it balanced perfectly - as if it were a little spinning top.

As we walked up the street, everyone was silent, through a few of us acknowledged each other. I saw Kade, who gave me a smile and wave; I gave him an awkward smile before I noticed Kingsley looking at me from the other side of the street, with a little mockery. However, this was the day of the Reaping, so we also gave each other a rare serious nod, Kingsley’s sincerity shown in his eyes.

We all reach the square just after one o’clock. It had a large cobbled floor surrounding a patch of grass upon which the weekday market ran, and houses ran away from the area in blocks to the North, South, East and West. As we file in, I look up at the camera crews partly hidden behind the rooftops, looking bored and intruding.

I go to my area, the one for sixteen year olds, and look to see Kingsley in the one above, alongside some of the stronger boys from the lumber teams. At the perimeter my father stares ahead, whilst my mother hangs her head down low.

The history of Panem goes through one ear and out the other, the rules of the Games are read and then the list of our victors. We’ve had our fair share over the course of the games, but the only living two include a one Johanna, and one Blight. They always refuse to speak on this day, an simply look ahead with their gazes of steel.

Syrio Loove catches my gaze as he moves towards a bowl of slips, announcing that it is time for the Ladies’ champion. He called my name. Anna Jackson. _Well, that was convenient._

I walk up to the stage, ready for Syrio to call the boys’ name. It’s one of the fifteen year olds, its somebody I know, its Kade Smith.

_So, this is going to be fun…_


	3. Leaving District Seven

****Chapter Three:** ** **** ****Goodbyes** ** ****\- Anna's PoV** **

The anthem plays and we are taken away to say our goodbyes. Kade looks pale - a stark contrast from this morning’s relative optimism.

I’m ushered into a room where I sit down on a warm fluffy sofa. I feel detached. I have prepared for this. I must be strong.

My mother enters the room, her eyes are dry yet red, her head down, the opens her arms, and I go to meet her embrace.

“I wish you’ll win” she whispers into my ear.

“I know”

Next to say goodbye is Kingsley. Apparently my earlier meeting with my father counts as enough of a parting for him.

I idly feel the chess piece in my pocket as Kingsley speak.

“Look, I know you’ve practised, I know you’re strong, but I don’t want you getting cocky out there - I don’t want you to tie. You’ve got to remember that there are people here who want you back, people who love you and believe in you. Funnily enough, one of those people is me. Just get yourself some food, water and something you can throw, then take them out one by one from a distance. Make some friends, but never trust them. Get out alive, and please, oh please stay rational, stay human, use that logic.”

I could see he was beginning to break down, so I balled him up in a hug.

“Kingsley, you are my greatest friend in the whole wide world, of course I’ll be back - I’ll even let you wear my wonderful victor’s crown if you ask nicely”

He gave a hollow chuckle in reply, and then said, as the peacekeepers dragged him away from me, “Just don’t forget your roots.”

We take a car over to the station, and reporters swarm around us. On the screen I look complacent and healthy - a strong contrast to Kade’s pale face and nervous swallowing.

After entering the train, it begins to speed towards the capital, and we are ushered to our rooms. I sit on my bed, and don’t realise I’ve dozed off until I hear a knock on the door and Syrio comes to collect me for supper, whilst tutting about the tardiness of ‘some of these districts’.

At the table I notice that Kade has gotten changed. He is wearing shimmering trousers and a golden sash over a pristine high-collared shirt. His hands shake as he holds his cutlery, and as I sit down, an anger shines through his nervous demeanour, as he slams his fork onto his plate. Evidently without appetite.

Also around the table are Johanna, Blight and Syrio - the latter being the only one with a jolly smile plastered to his face.

The meal comes in rich courses. Being the daughter of a tradesman, I’ve never been without, and thus fine foods are not a mystery, however some of the dishes were still a mystery to me, and I ate without excess. Blight, on the other hand, must have eaten for an army, occasionally elbowing an annoyed Johanna.

After we have eaten, Syrio uses a remote controller to pull a screen out for the wall to show us the highlights from today’s Reapings.

A few of the tributes stand out to me: a dark-harired boy from ten who reminded my a little of Jacob, a pair from one who actually smiled as they were selected, and a tanned boy from four who looked slightly older than me, and walked with a swagger that said he knew how to hold his own.

“I bet he’s good with a trident,” I commented to nobody in particular.

“Well then, we’d better hope that little Miss analyst over her doesn’t get a water arena, hadn’t we?” Johanna’s sharp tone pissed me off, and I bet she knew it.

“Oh, I’m sorry, but I was led to believe that we’re supposed to try and win this thing, unless of course you think that anticipating your opponents is a useless notion.”

“I’m not saying that at all, though I would point out that you might as well get some rest now, whilst you can, and maybe judge them later, at the training perhaps?” Her sarcastic tone didn’t cease throughout her whole suggestion, and then, to make it worse, she leant towards me and spoke again “then again, that is what your brother did, and we know what happened to him…”

At this I jumped out of my seat and across the table in one swift movement, pushing Johanna out of her chair, pinning her to the floor. “Say that again! Go on, I dare you, say it again!”

But, before Johanna had any chance to reply, Syrio stood up and asked for a little civility, so I let it go (this was supposed to be my mentor, after all), however, just as I was about to walk away, Johanna smashed my head down into the table, commenting “so the dog can bark”. I noticed a still pale Kade looking slightly taken aback at my outburst, then, as Syrio glared at Johanna she put her hands up, making an unassuming sign of surrender, so that I was let go.

As I sat down Syrio took interest in Johanna’s previous words, “So, the Jacob Jackson of last year’s tributes was your brother, was he? I can see the resemblance.”

Initially I glared at Syrio, but then I gave him one of my oh so charismatic smiles and he went back to his food, looking pleased with himself.

“I suppose then, if you really don’t want to end up like your brother, we can talk tactics over breakfast, tomorrow morning.” - At this, Johanna left, and Blight followed.


	4. Arrival

****Chapter Four:** ** **** ****Arrival** ** ****\- Anna's PoV** **

“Wakey wakey, my girl, its a new day, and a splendid morning!” Syrio wakes me up with his loud sing-song voice, not even knocking.

With an awful sigh, I roll out of bed - literally - right onto the floor. At least that woke me up. Then I go out, in some elaborate silk-set of pyjamas, to the breakfast table.

I pick at pieces from my hearty meal as I watch the other members of the table. Syrio was sitting, quite relaxed, in some sort of morning jacket, sipping his hot drink and reading some sort of news paper, whilst Kade, still wearing the same clothes as last night, but much less pale-skinned, was eating a selection of fancy meats off of a strange shaped fork-like-thing. He reached for some sauce to use, and then looked over to me, as if to offer some. This has all become incredibly domestic. I shake my head, providing a polite smile.

Just at that moment, Johanna strides in, followed by blight, tips herself a drink and shoved a ladle-full of thick porridge onto her plate.

“So then, what can you actually do? That is, besides jumping over tables.”

I look up as Johanna speaks, at first a little apprehensive, but then again, it seems that she’s going to be my mentor.

“Well, I can fight, wrestle, throw a good punch,”

“I suppose that’s useful,” she says. I just ignore her snarky comments.

“And I’ve got a good aim: I can throw a knife, an axe, use a slingshot: I’m not going to miss.” I then look over at Kade, realising that I’m technically revealing my skills to one of my competitors.

“For goodness sake, surely he’s allowed to listen, he’ll see you in training anyway.” Johanna famously underperformed in her training to fool her opponents into thinking she was weak, however, since she’s now my mentor, anybody would see through that tactic, for a District Seven tribute.

I looked at Kade before I continued, his face a mask of unreadability. “I also worked with the load pulling teams, so I’m strong as I need to be. And my father was a carpenter, so I know how to use the woods to make what I need.”

Blight then piped up (it was the first time I had __ever__ heard him speak), “what about you, kid?”

We all turned and looked at Kade, even Syrio looking a little intrigued.

“Oh, um, well, I’ve worked in the blacksmith a little, so I know how to swing a hot iron. Though I’m not entirely sure they’re going to put me a smith’s workshop in the cornucopia.” This slight sarcasm was a new thing I’d seen on Kade.

“Sword. Get one. Practice. Maybe use a spear or a knife, too, but you should learn to fight with a sword. And learn about the outdoors, you evidently don’t go out there much, you’re still a bit pale, even now you’ve found your courage.” Kade swallowed, embarrassed.

Syrio stood up and announced that he was going to prepare his already made-up face for arrival, leaning over the table, adding in a voice that was hushed, yet audible to us all, “and you should probably get out of those pyjamas, too, missy”, giving an almost conspiratorial wink.

Johanna merely raised her eyebrows and walked off. This time she was not followed by Blight, who had pulled Kade into a corner, to speak to by himself.

* * *

 

When we pulled into the Capitol, I was dressed again like a member of my district - all in browns and greens, leather and cotton, with the addition of a velvety green round hat, encrusted with a dark gem and a small green feather.

We walked past the cameras and cheering crowds, but I didn’t dare look at them - their twisted Capitol ways would surely make me think of my brother, something I had been trying to detach myself from to so long.

We walked in through one of the capitol buildings. It seemed relatively minimalistic, with pale, smooth stone walls and the occasional gold embellishments, accompanied by an black and white tiled floor.

Kade and I were ushered into separate rooms. It was here that we would meet our stylists.

Over the past year, I had prepared my self for unimaginable pains, both physical and mental, however, my brain could never have conjured up something like this. _I mean, they’re not even going to see any leg hair if I’m wearing trousers!_

But no, I’ve got to do everything they say, because I have to let my stylist make me look ‘fabulous’.

When I’m ready, my stylist walks in. I recognise him from the last six years of interviews. He is every bit the Capitol citizen. _Ladies and gentlemen, meet Fabian Idol._

The man, had bright red, hair, with a red shirt, red tie, and pale, sparking red, powdered contouring, all in combination with his mauve suit. Ew.

“Hello, hello, hello, it’s a big day for you, my friend, because Fabian Idol it finally here!” He’s that sort of guy where you don’t find it surprising when he speaks about himself in the third person.

“Oh, indeed.” I’m not sure if he can hear my sarcasm, but I don’t care. Then again, I probably should - a district’s parade entrance could make or break their chances in the arena.

“So, darling, I’ve been thinking about what we should do for your costume this year, and unfortunately for you, we already did the tree one last year.”

“Oh, no.” If Fabian does hear the disinterest in my voice, he ignores it.

“So, I thought we’d go for the all out, super special, breath-taking design that will have the whole crowd holding on to their seats, shock in there eyes.”

_Oh God, no,_  last year that’s exactly how Ceasar Flickerman described all the tributes who’d been sent out naked by their stylists - there were so many. _Please don’t make me naked._

“We have decided - drum roll please - to make you into something that is attached __to__ the tree.”

“Bark?”

“No. Ivy.”

_Why do the costumes have to represent the the districts? Why?!_

Fabian squealed, “oh, the excitement!”

_I just can’t wait for this parade._


End file.
